


Cleared For Duty

by Cloudy_Serendipity



Series: Muscle Memory [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Angry Bucky Barnes, Animosity, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence, Combat Training, Eavesdropping, F/M, Feelings not yet realised, Fighting, Frenemies, Hand-To-Hand Combat, Language, Light Angst, Martial Arts, Misunderstandings, POV Bucky Barnes, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Self-Denial, Self-Hatred, Sparring, slight sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy_Serendipity/pseuds/Cloudy_Serendipity
Summary: Steve enlists Bucky to help with combat assessments for the non-enhanced agents on the team.  There's a lot of them, but Bucky is not alone.When he draws Dr Edwards' name from the hat he's not happy but decides that 'suck it up buttercup' is going to be his mantra for the day.  He tells himself he can do this, but in reality he's mentally ill equipped to deal with her and she may or may not actually kick his ass.





	1. The Draft

**Author's Note:**

> First person male POV, the second one I've ever written, and hopefully better (and with more action) than the first. I have no beta so continue if you dare.
> 
> The characters of Thor, Wanda and Vision are just passing glances, as are most of the OCs. There's not too much by way of introductions to them at all.
> 
> I definitely have a new soft spot for The Winter Soldier and just love the knife fight scene in the movie where Bucky does that insane-ass knife flip. Just love it.
> 
> Marvel & Disney own the universe and characters, I'm just torturing them for my own pleasure!

It had been six weeks since my examination with Dr Edwards and though things had been smoothed over in terms of who was responsible for trying to impose new programming for the arm, I still steered clear of her.  And when that failed, I silently endured her aloof, and sometimes downright frosty regard.  She didn’t even attempt to stay out of my way, which was slightly infuriating.  The way she’d curtly greet me if we were within a few metres proximity really began to stress me out, so I kept my distance even more.  I was good at being a ghost, even in a room full of people.  Decades of practice at disappearing.

Honestly though, I just wanted an easy life.  Things had been so difficult since Steve had rescued me.  I’d spent a lot of time in hiding until he could clear it for me to be properly rehabilitated in Wakanda and then later here at the compound.  I spent a hell of a lot more time in therapy, both mental and physical, just to get to where I was today; a semi-broken man with more baggage than all the terminals at JFK.

Everyone here had been so good to me, even Dr Edwards was fairly amicable, I had no complaints about that.

It took me a long time to trust people, even though Steve vouched for them at every turn, like he vouched for me with them, I didn’t open up.  Probably still hadn’t if I’m honest with myself.  There’s still a hole inside.  Some days it hurts more than others, but I’m gradually healing, and until then I prefer to feel in control of the social situations I’m in.

With Dr Edwards, I don’t feel in control, at all.

 

9.45m on Monday morning the chime of the comms sounded in my room

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has asked me to remind you that there are employee combat assessments today, and that your presence is required.”  FRIDAY’s perky voice flooded my room.

“What time do I need to be there?”

“Fifteen minutes ago, sir.”

“Well, shit!”  I tugged on my suit and set out for the training suite on sub-level 1.

 

Steve had insisted that I take part in the assessments.  They weren’t actually for me, they were for the non-enhanced combat ready employees who were available for missions.  Each and every one of them was required to pass a combat test with one of the enhanced members of the team.  Only Bruce wasn’t allowed to take part for obvious reasons, and Parker was at school which meant that, in order to get through the combat tests as quickly as possible, I had been drafted to help out.  I didn’t mind, though I knew that some of the agents were still wary of me.  It was essentially just sparing.

“Good of you to show up.”  Steve huffed, shuffling his papers.

“I was doing my hair.”  I smirked and he actually looked up to see the long mess I always had, just hanging loose around my neck.

It was almost shoulder length now.

“Punk.”  He scoffed.

“Mug.”  I smirked.  “So what’s the deal?”

“You, me, Wanda, Vision, and Thor will split the agents equally, names in a hat seems like a fair way to go about it.”  Steve said, loud enough for us all to hear.  “There’s fifty two names so two of us will have eleven the rest will have ten.  I’ll take eleven.”

“As will I.”  Thor rumbled from a seat at a work bench in the corner as he picked at something that looked like a bag of Tony’s secret M&M’s.

“What about Iron Douche?”  It was unusual for Tony not to be involved.

“He said the suit is too much of an advantage.”  Steve didn’t look up at me which meant he was lying.  He was never very good at hiding things from me.

“Bullshit!  What the hell is this then?”  I waved the metal limb in the air, fully aware that I was making a tit of myself and acting like a child.  “Thor’s a god, Vision is, well, a god.  These guys train against the decommissioned bots from The Iron Legion all the damn time.  What gives?”

“Buck…”  Steve gave me ‘the look’.  “Drop it.”

 

So it turned out that today was the anniversary of Tony’s parent’s deaths.  The deaths that I caused.  When I say ‘caused’, I mean I physically killed them myself.  It wasn’t me exactly, it was The Winter Soldier, and yes we’re one and the same person but I had no control over what I did back then.  When someone said the words, _my words_ , I just slipped under and everything became automatic, like watching a Point of View movie, only I could feel _everything._   I still had the nightmares, but I didn’t want to think about that right now.

Wanda had been nice enough to clue me in so that I didn’t make a bigger ass of myself.  I was definitely grateful, deciding that I’d shout her a few of my favourite craft beers, the ones I get shipped in from Germany – perks of being an Avenger.

 

The divvying-up of the names went smoothly until, as my tenth assessment, I drew Dr Edwards.  I sighed heavily at the paper in my hand and I think that Steve knew already who I’d picked.

“I can trade you for Maria Hill if it’s an issue?”

“There’s no issue.”  I frowned, handing him the slip so he could write the name on the sheet.

He nodded compassionately.

There was most definitely an issue.  Me and Dr Edwards weren’t exactly enemies, but we weren't friends either.  She had a real dislike for me and made that abundantly clear with her formality and disapproving stares.  And I wasn’t all that keen on her either; the fake way she tried to be polite when we were forced to engage, the fact that she’d tried to dupe me into the nerfing protocols for the arm (even though she was under orders it made little difference to me), and she just made me _uncomfortable_.  Despite our mutual dislike for one another I didn’t want to hurt her, but I wouldn’t go easy on her like Steve might.

 

Steve pulled me aside before the first of the assessments began.  In the corridor outside the sparring studio he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“I’m not going to cut her any slack, if that’s what you’re gonna ask.”  I spat before he even opened his mouth.

“What?!”  That seemed to come out of left-field, leaving him stunned.  “I wasn’t going to ask that.  I wasn’t going to say anything about Vee.”  He shook his head.

“What then?  You wanna make sure I don’t beat anyone to death?”  Even I wasn’t sure where all this anger had sprung from.  Maybe thinking about Stark’s parents and the thing about the arm protocols…

“I was just going to tell you to make sure you don’t handicap yourself by trying _not_ to use the arm.”  Steve knew how I hated the thing, how I didn’t see it as a part of myself.  “They could be fighting against far worse than us and they need to understand what that’s like.”

I hung my head, a little ashamed of my outburst.  When our eyes met a second after, Steve was grinning.

“What?”

“You’ve really got it bad for that girl haven’t you?”

“What girl?”  What the hell was he talking about?

He slapped me on the shoulder and half jogged/half skipped backward down the corridor, giving me a knowing wink as he slipped inside the studio.

“WHAT GIRL?”  I shouted after him but the door was already closing.

 

The sparring studio had nine boxing ring-sized foam mats arranged in a square.  The mats were suitable for things like wrestling, martial arts and even gymnastics.  The four on the farthest corner were where the agents waited for their names to be called.  Each wore a lightly armoured body suit with inbuilt sensors that would detect the location and force of impacts.  The suits were dark grey with silvery reflective piping around the panels.  Each of the assessors also wore the same.

My normal kit for fighting in was far bulkier than this, more armoured, heavier, looser.  I tugged futilely at the material threatening to invade my crack, and was very glad I’d decided to wear a box.  Even the shoes felt wrong, they were more like slippers and nothing like the combat boots I favoured.  Though I felt light and speedy, I also felt naked.

FRIDAY called the agents forward by name, directing them to their respective rings.  I was on mat five, the one right in the middle of the room, also nearest to the waiting agents, and I didn’t feel like I was on display _at all_.

 

The brief for this mission, as I chose to think of it, was to start slow, go through basic blocks and attacks so FRIDAY could collect base data before moving into free-form sparring.  They had toughened rubber knives, batons and a few other props to use which would be picked up by the suits, but only the agents were allowed to use those.  As enhanced soldiers, so to speak, our own bodies were weapons.  None of us were more aware of that fact than me.

“Whenever you’re ready.”  I said, standing in parade rest, waiting for my first opponent to choose their ‘weapon’.

The guy picked a pair of batons, twirling them with finesse before taking a stance that looked like it was adapted from kung fu.

I smiled but tried not to smirk, this wasn’t an exercise in flamboyancy, it was an exercise in survival.  The idiom ‘keep it simple stupid’ was always far more effective than any fancy moves and showmanship.

The thin wiry form of the man suited his style, however, and during the blocking assessment he proved that his technique was flawless, even when I pushed a little with the power behind my blows he countered well enough even if he frowned with concentration.

Moving on to the free-form the man decided it was here that he was going to show his skill.  The flips and turns he made looked impressive but it took little effort for me to dodge and sidestep his attacks, the few I had to block I countered simply by tagging him sharply in any exposed area I could find, and there were several.

“Hey, listen.”  I said grunting when I finally had to block a decent kick.  “This isn’t about showing how good your technique is, this is about can you take me down before I take you down.  Focus, or you’ll tire yourself out.  I’m not gonna hold back anymore, ok?”

Surprisingly he nodded and changed his tactic, stance changing to a more practical one.

I let him have it.  Not full-power obviously but I struck hard and fast.  We traded blows and I could see he was tiring already.  He was fast but had little stamina, made worse by his earlier circus tricks.  He managed to get a good punch in, bloodying my lip and making me stagger back a little.

I grinned, wiping the blood away.  “Good!”  I growled and went back for more.

Admitting that you kind of like getting a bit beat up isn’t something you did to anyone but yourself and maybe your lover or your closest friend, but I hadn’t realised how much I missed the combat side of things.  It had been a couple of months since I’d been out in the field, benched for anything more than mundane peacekeeping missions.  Maybe this was Steve’s way of letting me know I was on active duty again.

“Thanks for the tips.”  The guy said to me when we were done.  He held his own for long enough that I felt confident he’d pass his assessment.

“You got it.”  I clucked my tongue and winked slightly as he turned to leave.  No one had to know but us.

 

“That was a kind thing you did there.”  A voice behind me said after a few moments of feeling observed.  “I hope you go that easy on me.”

Maria Hill smirked at me knowingly.

“Steve’s got you on his list.”  I said, tightening the wraps on my hand before slipping the tactical gloves back on.

“I’ve been transferred.”  She had a sassy way of talking even if she wasn’t sassing.

“Like hell!”  I was suddenly furious.  Marching over to mat 1, I coughed to get Rogers’ attention.

“Sup, Buck?”

“You know damn well.”  I said.  “Stop trying to baby me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Giving me Maria instead of Edwards.”  I gestured wildly to where Maria was now stood back with the other agents.  “I said there wasn’t going to be a problem and there isn’t.”

“Ohhh, that.”  He nodded.  “Alright if you insist on doing Edwards then take her.”

Why did I blush just then?  _Do her?  Take her?_   If Steve was trying to push my buttons it was working.

“I just want to do my fair share.”  I grumbled, trying to get my hot-headedness under control.  “I don’t want special treatment, I just want to do my job, so stop interfering.”

“Okay, Bucky…”  he sighed, making eye contact with someone over my shoulder, Maria I assumed, and shook his head.  “I’ll stop.”

 

The next few assessments were a mixed bunch.

I completely ruined one guy who I suppose was rather intimidated by me and froze up so much I knocked him clean out with a punch at the blocking stage of the assessment.

Three ladies back-to-back with a variety of skills and styles, one of which reminded me of Romanov – I later learned she was her protégé.

One huge guy gave me a run for my money and really made me work for it.  He hit hard and actually bounced me to the mat twice, earning a few cheers from the pre-assessed spectators.  I wasn’t pissed or anything, he deserved the praise.

Two more men after that both chose the knife as a weapon.  The second of the two flipped and twirled it around as if it was a toy.  He got a shock when I disarmed him and really showed him how knife fighting should be done, mid-air grip switches and combination blocks that will have left his data sheet showing that he’d have bled out from multiple wounds all over his body, wrists, thighs, armpits, neck – the works.  The first one though, he did a decent job.

 

Before the penultimate assessment, I took a moment to rest and rehydrate.  We’d been at this for hours and even I was getting hungry.  I scarfed a protein bar and watched the other four assessments.

Steve fought clean with jumps and rolls that were a little off on account of the absence of his shield. 

Thor was the kind of fighter who would take a kicking just to get his hands on his opponent so there was some grappling to be done with him.

Vision was just tough to catch, flying low and using a mid-air dash to avoid being hit – he wore his opponents down with their own strength against them.

Wanda, now Wanda was a joy to watch.  Her style was one crafted of necessity, she relied on her power and used it to mentally break her opponents.  She blocked and parried with weapons made of nothing but red mist and I admired her for her resilience and ability to adapt.  She was like me in a way, born from the same kind of fucked-up experimentation, an orphaned child of a long-defeated ideal.

 

Looking back over to the agents still waiting for their evaluations, I saw there were six left.  Two of Steve’s and mine, and one of everyone else’s.

Dr Edwards sat on the floor, legs spread in a stretch that looked intense, she had been watching me closely as I fought the other agents, her gaze impassive and calm.  But now she was focused on her own preparation, making sure she wouldn’t sustain any muscle related injuries from the exercise.

“FRIDAY, I’m ready for the next one.”  I said low, knowing the A.I. would pick up my voice.  There was no reply other than to call the next agent to mat number five.

 

This guy was much younger than I expected of a combat ready Avengers’ agent but there was no accounting for talent.  He chose a knife too.

 _You’d think they’d learn._   I thought with a bemused sigh.

It was over quite quickly and I wasn’t sure if this one would be cleared either, Steve hadn’t gone through the criteria with me only the exercises and that the free-form should be exactly that.

After I helped him to his feet he apologised for screaming when I got him in a head-lock.  I shouldn’t have laughed but I couldn’t help it.

“It’s ok kid, Steve used to be just like you, quiet, timid and not much of a fighter.  There are qualities other than strength that are good for a job like this.  Don’t beat yourself up.”  I knew that drawing a parallel between him and the super soldier wasn’t going to emphasise my point very well but he understood and shook my hand before going to warm down with the rest.

 

Thor and Vision had both finished their assessments but me, Steve and Wanda had one left each.  I straightened my suit which was sweaty and completely clung to my skin all over.  One last one, then I could shower, eat and relax.

“FRIDAY…”  I rolled my shoulders, turning to find Dr Edwards already standing just inside the boundary of the fighting area.  “Never mind.”

“Sergeant.”  She nodded curtly with what looked to be a miniscule smirk.

“Doc.”  I replied, meeting her gaze and holding it.

She was big on eye contact and it was unnerving, but I refused to look away.  I felt my face heat up with annoyance and when something in her face changed, she finally looked to the side as if she had casually noticed something on the wall.

“Choose your weapon for the free-form.”

She picked up the toughened rubber knife and I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad about that.  I lived for a good knife fight but somehow seeing the faux blade delicately poised in her fingertips did something to my insides.  Was it nerves?  Disappointment?  Who the fuck knew, but it felt weird.  This was going to be more up close and personal than I’d hoped.

The armoured suit didn’t leave all that much to the imagination and although her thighs looked strong, she somehow looked more fragile than I’d seen her in the tech or med wings, or anywhere else for that matter.  She was sleek and well-shaped, proportions not quite perfect, there was a slight overabundance of thigh, hip and breast but… _Wow!_

I shook myself, both physically and mentally.

 _What the fuck, man?  This woman makes you miserable and she hates your guts.  Don’t fucking start that shit now that you’ve seen her in something tight._ I told myself sternly.  _Fuck my life!_


	2. The Beatdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky lets his temper get the better of him and things go too far in the final assessment. Dr Edwards has been holding out on the team, hiding skills that would rival Black Widow behind a pristine white lab coat.
> 
> After they face off, Bucky is forced to assess himself and he's not too happy about a realisation lurking in his subconscious.

The Doc was quick, I’ll give her that.  The basic blocks were effortless for her, even when I pushed her on the strength aspect, she adapted the blocks adding twists and flicks to her movement so she was more carrying the momentum away rather than stopping it.  Her motions were smooth, fluid – like water, and she was graceful.  All this I noticed at the back of my mind because I was solely focused on my own movements.

The more advanced blocks had her switching her stances almost as if she was dancing, shifting her centre of gravity as needed.  She was flawless and it infuriated me.

Overstepping my own balance gave her an opportunity to parry from a block where she deflected the metal arm across my body so easily it was like I was a child.  She dug me sharply in the ribs just under the join between my own flesh and the arm.  Of course she knew my weak points, she knew everything about me and the infernal contraption I relied upon to do my job.

I hissed at the pain that bloomed under the skin, and she smirked.

The assessment requirements didn’t state that candidates should strike if they could during the first phase but it didn’t say they couldn’t.  Maybe she was showing off, maybe she did it to unnerve me.  If that was the case, it worked, not that I needed any pushing down that path – ever since we met she always seemed to have me on the back foot.

 

We paced, breathing a little too heavily from our exertions.  I’d gone harder on Edwards than any of the others.  I guess maybe that’s what Steve had been worried about when he tried to switch her with Maria Hill.  She acquitted herself more than adequately however.  In fact, she was better than all of the other’s I’d had with maybe the exception of the huge guy.

The Doc shook out her arms before picking up the rubber knife.  This was going to be interesting.  I couldn’t help but wonder what she could do with a blade now having seen her undeniable prowess.

The knife looked comfortable in her hand despite her grip being too light.  I’d be able to take that from her and then it’d be game over.

“Are you ready?”  I asked when she stood before me again.

She bowed lightly, a respectful reflex of her martial arts training.  I did the same.  It was only right that we were civil, despite the burning in my veins that told me I had to take her down. 

 

She moved her arms gracefully, legs shifting into a familiar stance I’d seen once already today.

My first assessment.  The thin wiry man who’d been too eager to show off.  Were the two connected?  It would make sense if they were.  Was I the reason he’d been so desperate to prove a point, showboating to get the better of me because he knew his girl hated my guts?  Was she his girl?  I couldn’t remember seeing them together but then again I tried to avoid her as much as possible, it would be easy to miss something like that.

And here she was now, in all her glory, doing for herself what her man couldn’t achieve.  This was her lesson to me, to show me that I didn’t scare her, that she was in control, she’d defend his honour against me.  Her aim was clear; to make me look stupid.

Acid rose in my gut and I actually felt angry.  _Seriously?_   She was going to make this whole assessment all about the animosity between us?

I nodded, ready to begin.  Ready to have this shit over and done with.  Ready to retire to my room and not come out for days.

 

It began simply enough, a few testing blows that had me blocking lightly, like she was getting the feel of me and how I fought.  Then suddenly she settled into herself and she struck purposefully, my blocks leading to parries that she would in turn block and open me up for a sharp dig to a vulnerable pressure point.

Her fingers were precise, each time she struck yielded pain for me and there wasn’t a thing I could do other than not parry when I blocked.  She kept hold of the knife easily enough despite my efforts to take it from her though she didn’t use it to great effect, almost like she knew I wanted it and would go for it at every opportunity.

She was smart and calculating but when an opportunity to take the knife next arose I ignored it, instead getting under her defences with a strike to the abdomen that pitched her back and onto the ground.  She rolled smoothly, finishing in a defensive crouch, gasping hard against the pain I knew I’d caused but her eyes never left mine.  Focused and predatory, she was like a damn cat.

 

We took our positions again, ignoring people talking around the edges of the mat.  This time she didn’t hold back.

She actually threw the fucking knife at my face and lunged straight after.  I caught it out of the air before it hit me but it was too late by then.  Her knee connected high up on my chest, the force slamming me down against the ground where she knelt on top of me, her left knee pinning my right shoulder and her right leg stretched out down the metal arm with her foot pinning the wrist.  Her fists were poised to strike but she didn’t.

There was chatter on the periphery of my focus.

Her face was smooth and calm but her eyes were wild.  She was either furious or…

I tried to buck her off once but couldn’t quite manage it.  Blade forgotten on the mat by the metal hand, I gripped her ankle and forced her leg up, shoving her off so hard she was forced to flip back onto her feet.  So much in control of her movements it was almost lazy the way she landed.

I blessed the strength in that metal arm briefly, then I was up and going for her, anger clouding my judgement.  I should have known the assessment was over.  It had been over before we took our positions after I first struck her, but we were both too riled up to notice.  Everyone else had finished and they were all watching us go at it like a pair of prize fighters.

Veronica continued to break me down with tactical strikes to my pressure points, once she even dug her knuckles into the sensitive flesh between my collar bone and the metal shoulder of me left arm.

I snarled through the pain.

Gritting my teeth, I caught her leg when she tried to follow through with a knee to my groin.  She grabbed the collar of my suit with both hands and hopped up, pushing her other foot against my chest where she used all her strength to wrench her caught leg free of my grip.  Throwing herself backwards in a graceful flip.

I had to admit I was a little surprised, I thought I had control of her but she’d thwarted me again.

Things were getting too heated and too personal but I didn’t care.  She was taking everything I threw at her.  I held little back.  And she was giving the same, bringing pain in places I never thought I was vulnerable.

 

We were both tired, me from several hours exertion and her from giving me everything she had.  Eventually she went for what would have been a killing move if she’d had a weapon.  It began with a kick to my inside thigh lifting to a kick to the head, which she knew I would duck.  Instead of following through she brought her leg back, hooking it around my neck and would have used my own body weight to roll me into a choke hold I would have had little hope of escaping without the strength of the serum and my prosthetic arm.

Had she landed the move, my neck would have been crushed between her calf and thigh, and the rest of my body opened up for attack.  A knife to the heart would have been the perfect finish, if she had one.

As it was, I saw the hook kick coming and threw myself forward, taking her down with me.

She struggled, naturally, but I pinned her to the mat between my legs so I was sat on her hips.  Both of her wrists in my metal hand, held viciously above her head with my right hand drawn back in an aborted punch.

We were both soaked in sweat, chests heaving.  My fury had gotten the better of me but I hadn’t completely lost control.  I had held back on some things at least but I knew I’d fucked up when I heard people talking around us.

I looked up to find fifty-five people staring at me, a mixture of shock and awe on their faces.  Steve looked pissed but he didn’t say a word, only shook his head disappointedly.

 

The sound of laughter brought my focus back to the woman beneath me.  She was laughing in between gasping breaths, her eyes fixed on mine.

I frowned angrily.  This shit wasn’t funny.  I could have seriously hurt her.  She’d successfully goaded me into a dangerous fight and now she was laughing about it.  _Unbelievable._   I let her go with a humph.

She grinned, rubbing her wrists before laying both hands softly atop my thighs.  It was difficult to tell if her face was red from the fighting or if she had just blushed, but the slow blink and heavily lidded gaze that followed it pulled at something in my gut that shouldn’t even have been there.

Frowning more deeply, I got up.  Not bothering to help her to her feet, I stormed out of the studio and hit the showers.

 

 

It’s safe to say I was raging, but there was also something else.  The tight pressure against my groin guard was unwelcome.

_That’s so fucked up._

Sure, she was beautiful but she hated me and the feeling was (is) mutual, especially now.  And she’s taken – that wiry-looking guy from assessment one.

_Since when did that factor in?  You don’t like her.  End of story._   I told myself.

 

I let the water run over my body as I calmed myself down.  Steve had been right.  I should have let him swap Maria onto my list instead but I hadn’t thought it would affect me this much.

The heavy, wet slap of bare feet in the shower room told me I wasn’t alone.  I didn’t need to look to know who.

“You wanna tell me what all that was about?”  Steve said running the shower next to mine.

“Not really.”

“You’re gonna have to talk it out eventually.”

I didn’t reply.  I knew he was angry with me but was making the effort to be diplomatic because he knew that anger would only be met with stubbornness.  We knew each other well, and though I’d changed more than I liked, he hadn’t.  He was still the same caring, kind, selfless punk-ass kid, he just had a bigger body now.

“I don’t get it, Buck.  I really don’t.”  Steve scrubbed under his arms.  “What did she do to make you hate her so much?”

“She started it by hating me.  Why don’t you ask _her_.”  I turned my back on him, still not bothering to open my eyes.  The water felt good.  It was hot, just how I liked it.

“I have.”  He said matter-of-fact.

“And?”  It interested me more than I’d care to admit.

“Oh, no you don’t.”  He half laughed in disbelief.  “You don’t get to hear her story and keep yours to yourself.

“Fine.”  I huffed and snagged the body wash I’d hung on the tap.  “I know enough, I don’t need to know more.”

I knew Steve was trying to draw me out with the temptation of information.  He knew I liked control, information and knowledge was one form of control I could easily achieve, if only I’d trade the information with him.

_Nope.  Not doing it._

I’d had a moment earlier where I wasn’t totally sure how I felt.  There was something underneath the constant resentment I felt towards Dr Edwards, something that threw everything into a different light.  I was definitely keeping that to myself.

 

We showered in silence for the remainder of the time, and when we were getting changed back into our regular clothes Steve stopped, leaning against the lockers.

“You know she completely kicked your ass, right?”

“Go fuck yourself.”  I scoffed.

Snorting out a short laugh, he pulled on his trainers and left me to my thoughts.

 

The dawning of a realisation isn’t necessarily a freeing experience.  Sometimes it’s painful as hell.  I should know.

Of course I knew she’d kicked my ass.  That delicate and intelligent Doctor had just flipped my world right upside down.  Everything that had happened to me to make me the killing machine I was and the man I am now had been picked apart by the smooth motion of her body and the sharpness of her strikes.  I was weak, emotionally, physically… well maybe not physically but I was vulnerable.  She’d shown me that.  Shown me how to improve.  She’d always shown me how to be better, how to make the most of what I had.  Right back to the beginning when I’d come with Steve for the first time and she’d just listened when I’d told her things about my past.

I hadn’t realised it then but I’d opened up.  The words I’d said to her then.

_I can’t trust my own mind._

I hadn’t had the arm then.  My old one had been blasted off by Iron Douche and his chest ray of death.

She’d been so intuitive that I felt like she knew me already, and if she could see that far into my soul then she knew I was rotten to the core.  Could she read the pages of that little red book in the lines on my face or the harrowing memories that glazed my eyes over?  Could she look at me and see my death count?  The idea of that made me ashamed.

If I thought about it hard enough, I could pinpoint the exact moment I began to shut her out and it was right there, on the exam table, when she was helping Dr Harvey assess the damage to my shoulder.  I felt like I could trust her, felt like I could let her in.  But that was dangerous.  New things – dangerous.  Opening up – dangerous.  Allowing yourself to be vulnerable – dangerous.  Getting close to someone who could potentially be your next weakness – dangerous and stupid.

_I can’t trust my own mind._

I had shut the feelings down, distanced myself, called her by her formal title, and when she did the same, I convinced myself that it was because she disliked me or worse, she didn’t trust me. 

 

After the assessments today, seeing how hard she went at me, I knew for sure that dislike had taken root.  I’d put it there and kept it there so I only had myself to blame but it hurt a little more than it should.  Much more than it should, actually.  I couldn’t afford to let the feelings back in but I could at least acknowledge them for what they were.

I did like her, was attracted to her – actually that was the easiest part to explain.  The rest… well, that was all jumbled up with the emotional baggage I carried around with me.  There was too much of it to sort through to get it all straightened out, even with the therapy.

I guess it didn’t matter now anyway.  The damage was done and I’d just have to live with things the way they were.  I’d still keep my distance, for an easy life.  That’s all I wanted really, for things to be easy for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Edwards' skills are extreme but I wanted to play her as a bit of a wild card and possibly throw her in a mission with Bucky later in the series. I envisioned her fighting style to be a hybrid between X-Men Mystique and Black Panther.


	3. Shoe's on the Other Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a chat with Steve, Bucky tortures himself over Edwards' assessment. A chance encounter and some eavesdropping gives Bucky some answers but there's yet more misunderstanding.  
> Will Bucky ever overcome his over self-loathing, and get a grip on himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add a little of Edwards perspective so this one is a little heavy on the dialogue. I say a little... *coughs innocently*  
> There's a lot of emotional beratement in this and honestly, even I'm getting frustrated by how obtuse he is. But his suffering is a necessary part of the process (because I say so) :D

“You really hurt her, Buck.”  Steve rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward with a disappointed expression.

He’d come to my room for a beer and a chat about the possibility of me becoming a more active member of the team, but he’d quickly diverged from that topic onto a one I really didn’t want to entertain.

I sighed and shook my head.  If I didn’t respond then it wasn’t a conversation.

Dr Edwards had walked out of the sparring suite on her own two feet, without assistance.  I know she had.  I checked the footage.

A large ball of guilt hung in my gut so I’d watched the recording just to torture myself some more.  Yeah, I’d fucked up.  I knew it, Steve knew it, the whole compound knew it.  Stark was furious, calling for me to be sent back to Wakanda.  Jokes of Manchurian Candidate aside, he probably wanted to put me back on ice.  It wasn’t a bad idea, in fact it was a pretty good one.  Smart.  The problem was, there was no helping me while I was under.  Steve wouldn’t allow it.

“Bucky?”

I looked up, glaring at my friend.  I hated that I put him in this position but also hated that he was laying a guilt trip like this on me.  Like I didn’t feel bad enough.

“Whatever it is between you two, you at least owe her an apology.”

He was right, I did.  But that didn’t change the fact that seeing her was the last thing I wanted in the whole world right now.

“Have you seen the medical report?”

There was a medical report?  Did I beat her that badly?

“Broken ribs, Bucky.”  Steve sighed heavily before continuing.  “Bruises all over her body.  She’s lucky you didn’t-.”

“Kill her?”  I snapped.  “She gave as good as she got, Steve.  I don’t have bruises to show for it but she was more than capable of defending herself.”

His frown was deep.

“I’ve seen the suit data, yeah, I know she put the hurt on you man, but she’s just a normal person, no serum, no powers, no nothing.”  He seemed to sympathise but it was short-lived.  “ _Her_ suit data on the other hand…”

“Just stop, okay.”  I leaned back against the chair and rubbed my hands down my face.  This was painful enough.  My own anguish plus the extra guilt Steve was laying on me.  “I know I fucked up.  I’m not saying it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t take it back, there’s no rewind on this shit.  It’s done.”

“You could say sorry.”

“What’s sorry gonna do, Steve?  She won’t accept it anyway, she hates me, more now than ever.”

“Just talk to her.”  Steve stood, putting his unfinished beer on the occasional table.  This was him saying ‘apologise or else’, whatever the _‘or else’_ would be.

 

After Steve left, I paced in my room.  I’d been hiding out in here for a couple of days after the assessments, not wanting to see anyone.  Steve had been my only visitor and I didn’t know whether that was because he’d told everyone to give me space or if they were too pissed off with me to bother checking in.  Either way, I’d worked myself up to a guilty crescendo only made worse by Steve dropping the broken ribs bombshell on me.

“FRIDAY?”

“How may I help you, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Are Monday’s combat assessment files sealed, or can I view them?”

“Yes to both.”

He could almost sense the amusement in her disembodied voice.  Curse Tony for making these A.I. things too human.

“Explain.”

“The files are sealed but as an active member of the assessment team, Sergeant Barnes, you have full access to all data, footage and results from the non-enhanced team assessments.”

“What about medical?”

“That is included in the data, sir.”

Had Steve known I’d look into it after he’d told me what I’d done to her?  Or had he forgot that I had been given access?

“FRIDAY, show me the files from my session with Dr Edwards.”

“Preparing…”  She said before light from above beamed a virtual display right in front of me.

It was all there; video, audio, suit data, energy outputs, efficiency readings, contact stats, medical, assessment result, recommendations for any further action.  I swiped at the medical file, though maybe I should have worked my way up to it.

The report was easy enough to read, two broken ribs on her left side.  I’d done that with my own flesh and bone, not the prosthetic.  Extensive bruising over 70% of her body, no concussion, no contusion.  There were pictures.  Stills taken from the examination immediately after and also from the days after.

My chest ached, seeing what I’d done.  No amount of dislike for a person should have made me lash out like that.  Yeah, sure there were bound to be some bruises.  These people were fighting enhanced avengers, we packed a punch.  But this…

The bruises on her forearms were from blocking my attacks, some of the ones on her legs also, shins in particular.  But her thighs, hips, stomach, ribs, and back were a contiguous blanket of mottled deep purple and bright blue bruises.  One bruise even had enough detail to see the ridges where the articulation of my metal hand had bit into her skin.  I hadn’t struck her face, however.

Feeling sick, I stumbled back, waving away the display.  My room fell into gloominess without the bright images.  Was I good for nothing but destruction, bringing hurt?

I had all but forgotten how she had pushed my buttons, making me angry as we fought.  Now it surfaced again, prickling my scalp with annoyance.  Why would she do this?  Push me into hurting her?  Why didn’t I stop?  Why didn’t I just let Steve switch her with Maria, then this would never have happened.  All very good questions that didn’t mean a damn thing because I couldn’t take it back.

_Goddamn you!  You broken, fucked up piece of shit.  You can’t escape what you were made for, never could, never will._

 

 

It was another couple of days before I ventured out of my room.  The necessity of food drawing me to the communal kitchen.  I had missed the weekly grocery order and the supplies in the fridge in my room had dwindled to nothing but condiments.

I waited until it was late in the evening, when I thought all the staff would have left and everyone else would have retired to their rooms.

I had just pushed the door to the communal area open when I heard voices.  It was Wanda and Dr Edwards.

My heart plummeted into my gut, stopping me in my tracks with the door cracked open no more than a couple of inches.  I was about to leave when I heard my name mentioned.

Out of their direct line of sight but able to see them reflected in the glossy black backsplash of the sink panel, I eavesdropped like a teenager.

 

“Why are you even asking about him, Vee?  After what he did?”  Wanda took a sip from a large white mug.  She liked tea.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

Edwards was leaning against the counter, uncharacteristically wearing trousers and a sweater in place of her usual skirt and blouse.  Maybe she was here socially.

“Hmph.”  Wanda frowned.  “Don’t make excuses for him, he’s a big boy and can deal with his own consequences.”

“I only asked if you’d seen him.  That’s all.  Professional curiosity.”

“The fact that he stormed out of the assessment in the ‘murder strut’ has got nothing to do with it?”

I could hear the teasing in Wanda’s voice.  Wait!  Murder strut?  What the hell?

Dr Edwards was silent but she looked down as if hiding her expression.

“Wow, really?”

“Can we talk about something else now?  You’re clearly not going to tell me what I want to know so let’s move on.”

“What did you want to know?”  Wanda put her cup down on the counter and crossed her arms, suddenly invested.

“Just that he’s doing ok.”  Dr Edwards huffed a breath through her nose.  “I really pushed him and I shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you, then.  You know he’s volatile.”

“I don’t know.  I guess I just wanted to show him that not everyone is afraid of him, that I’m here and I’m indomitable.”  Veronica sighed then, defeated.  “Ever since I was put on his detail, back when he first arrived, I’ve been trying to help him through, well everything.  Yeah part of it is orders but there’s a part that’s not.  I thought we had a connection but he really hates me for some reason, I have no clue why.”

_Funny way of helping._   I thought bitterly as I continued to listen in.

“He told Steve that you’re the only person who won’t ever call him Bucky.”  Wanda laughed softly as if it was some cute story.

“Really?”  That was genuine surprise.  “It’s funny you say that actually.  When we first met, he used to call me ‘Ronny’.  It was a name my parents called me when I was a kid, and I kind of liked hearing it again.  Then he started calling me Dr Edwards, in that stiff tone he always does, and I thought he was flirting.”

They both laughed.

“Bucky doesn’t flirt.”

“He does.”

“No he doesn’t.  He’s the type to bash his woman on the head with a club and drag her off to his cave.”  Wanda chortled.  “Anyway, you were saying?”

Dr Edwards, paused a moment to take a big drink from her glass.

“Okay, yeah.  I thought he was flirting.  I won’t lie, I did it back.  I figured it was a prompt, that he liked being called by his title, maybe it was a bit of tension charged camaraderie.  But it wasn’t.”  She shifted.  “I didn’t realise how badly he was still damaged, you know, inside.  What I’d thought was a connection was a complete misread.  He closed himself off and made it perfectly clear that he didn’t appreciate my company, and now here we are.”

I felt like I’d been socked in the chest again.  There it was, confirmation that I was the cause of this whole situation.  Me, a broken thing, breaking other things around it.

“You know that’s all bravado though, right?”

“Is it?”

“Of course.”  Wanda laid her hand gently on Edwards’ shoulder.  “He’s working through some, uh, _things_.  Maybe you should try to talk to him.”

“I can’t.  I tried after the arm protocol debacle but as soon as I walk into a room he ghosts.  Gone before I can draw a breath.”

She seemed sad, full of regret maybe.  I knew what that felt like but to me she always looked full of resolve.  When she would stare me down, hold my gaze until I became uncomfortable, there was nothing there but cold regard.  Could she be lying to Wanda right now?  Surely playing the victim would suit her cause better than admitting any fault.

“Can we talk about something else?  This is fucking depressing.”

“Sure, sure.”  Wanda said absently.  “So how did you learn to fight like that?”

Edwards laughed.  It was unexpected and a little bitter.  If I could have seen her face, I knew her smile wouldn’t have reached her eyes.

“You don’t quit do you?”

“Have you only just learned that about me?”  Wanda chuckled.

“I suppose not.”  Edwards said wistfully.  “It’s not really a long story so much as it is a strange one.  I’ve done martial arts since I was a kid actually, it’s an unusual style adapted from kung-fu and jeet kune do.  When I was recruited by the CIA as a tech officer, they put me through special ops training.  Undercover work, infiltrating labs is harder than infiltrating governments apparently.  Something to do with knowledge and expertise.”

“So you were a nerd version of Romanoff?”  Wanda interrupted.

“Oh, god no!  I was nowhere near her calibre.  She’s a legend.”  Edwards drank.  “Anyway, I was headhunted by SHIELD so I took the job.  Obviously SHIELD wasn’t what we all thought it was so that got me transferred to STARK Industries.”

This was all very interesting but I was getting impatient, wanting to hear how she’d managed to kick my ass.  She said that she was nothing in comparison to Natasha, yet Nat had never bested me the way Edwards had, even when she was fighting for her life back in Washington DC a few years back, when I was _him_.

Wanda seemed to share my sentiment.

“But that doesn’t explain how you took him down.  Not even Romanoff can do that.”

“It’s really quite simple.”  She sighed, saddened further by the memory of their fight.  “I _learned_ him.”

_Say what?_

“I mean, _really_ learned him.”  Edwards took Wanda’s confusion as a queue.  “When I was put on his recovery detail, I learned everything there was to know about that man.  Who he was before, back in the forties.  The war.  His Hydra history.  The arm.  Every mission.  Every kill.  His abilities, strength, speed.  His style and all of his weaknesses.  Even his psychological reports.  It’s always best practice to know the terrain, right?  How effective would I be if I didn’t understand him?”

_So you were just another experiment to her?_

“The only thing I don’t know about him is how he feels.”

The restless simmering of anger burning in my chest increased until I was practically twitching.  This made things so much worse.  The cold way in which she’d picked out all my flaws in order to exploit them?  Jesus what a piece of work.

“I fought like I did because I _know_ him, down to every scar on his body.  Every, single, one, Wanda.  That’s how much I wanted to put into his recovery.”  She swiped at her face and coughed nervously.

 

I was already letting the door swing closed, striding down the hall in what Wanda had aptly called my ‘murder strut’.  I didn’t care that the door clunked against the frame after I let it swing shut unhindered.  I didn’t care if either of them knew I had heard.  I was done with this shit now.  Steve needed to either send me on mission so I could go hurt some assholes or let me go so I could get away from this place and her.

I supposed this was how she had felt, hearing me and Steve talking about her a few weeks ago.  I couldn’t care enough to feel guilty about it then, and now it felt justified.  Hearing her say she studied me, learned my weaknesses, learned the terrain.  For what?  Manipulation?  Had she resorted to this emotional conflict to try to control me, in place of her failed attempt at friendship early on?  Perhaps it had been pity that had made her try the connection route first.  And what for?  To keep me under control?  Hell, I’d rather be put on ice again.

Fuck it!  It’s not worth the stress.

_Then why does it hurt?_

The slight cracking of her voice as she told Wanda the final piece of her story.  The hasty swipe of fingers against her cheek.  Was she regretting starting this war with me?  Had I hurt her more than she was letting on?  Something other than the physical.

Undoubtedly the latter played a part.  She took a beating from me with barely a perceived reaction.  I knew at what point I’d broken her ribs, however, it was the first body blow I got in on her.  And she’d continued to fight afterwards.  That took some control.  Could I hate her and admire her at the same time?

The images of her bruised skin flitted through my mind as I strode up to Steve’s door.  I knocked twice and FRIDAY let me in.  Steve was sat at his desk signing reports.

“I want out.”  I said, not bothering to greet him.

He turned to me and considered me for a moment before signing one final page and closing up the manila folder.

“Care to tell me why?”

“Edwards.”  I said.  “I’m done.”

“You spoke?”

I shook my head, clenching my jaw.

“Then what?”

He laid a hand on my shoulder; a friendly gesture despite my formal stance.  I hadn’t realised I’d stood to attention, army training never too far under the surface.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk.  Was it what I said earlier?”

“I saw the files.  I can’t be trusted.”

Keeping my answers short was the best way to keep the emotion out of my voice.  I didn’t want to admit it to myself but I was floundering in the shallows of my own mental anguish with the deep water not too far away.  Her bruises bringing back memories from a cold place in my mind.  The ice cold feeling was firmly rooted in my soul despite the therapy.  The words were ineffective now but that didn’t matter because The Winter Soldier was always in there, he was me and I was him.  We could only destroy.  If I stayed here the split that had formed in The Avengers over the Sokovia Accords would only grow wider.  I had to go.

“Buck,” he began but I scrunched my face up, not wanting to hear him beg me to stay.  “I don’t want to force the issue but the only reason you’re not in a cell on The Raft right now is because Tony and I took responsibility for you.  You can’t just leave the compound and go live on your own until the government signs off on your rehabilitation.”

“And they wont.”  I murmured, half to myself.  I knew that’s what he’d say.  I _could_ tell him I’d just escape and disappear.  I’d done it before, spent months and months in hiding until Zola framed me for the U.N. bombing.

“No, they wont.”  He sighed.  “Look, you’re not a prisoner here but there are protocols to follow, hence why you’ve always got a buddy or a shadow when you go out.”

I knew that and I accepted it.  I’d never tried to shake them before but if I wanted to vanish there’d be nothing they could do to stop me.

“I’m just hurting right now Steve, I can’t be here.”  I said, hoping he’d understand because I sure as hell didn’t.  “I saw her in the kitchen with Wanda.  They were talking about me.”

Steve raised a sarcastic eyebrow.  Yeah, I knew he was thinking I deserved that for doing exactly the same thing to her.  I nudged him with my elbow, my way of saying ‘jerk’.

“I learned a few things, like how she studied me to get the better of me.  She must really hate me, Steve.  Did I kill someone she loved, maybe one of the ones I don’t remember?”

This rollercoaster of feelings was draining my energy faster than a pack of tranq darts.

“She doesn’t hate you Bucky.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Trust me, will you?”  Steve said, almost rolling his eyes.  “Just talk to her, okay?”

I nodded.  Accepting the fact that he was right.  I did need to have this out with Dr Edwards but I couldn’t bring myself to approach her.  That underlying feeling of unease I got when I was around her was enough to make me stay away, let alone the guilt from my most recent fuck up.

Over the years I’d killed a lot of people.  You’d think that the weight of all of that would completely outweigh this new feeling of helplessness that was threatening to smother me.  No such luck.  At least the PTSD was a known quantity.

“At least book in to see Rodriguez tomorrow, get a few things off your chest.”  Steve had this concerned look on his face that told me I’d zoned out for longer than I thought.  “It might help you get your feelings straight.”

“I don’t want to see the shrink.”  I needed less emotion, not to find more.  I had so much of it right now I was slipping under the surface, close to drowning.

“That wasn’t a request, soldier.”

_Figures._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Bucky ever overcome his over self-loathing, and get a grip on himself?  
> The Answer: Not in this part of the series XD
> 
> Bucky's headspace is filled with self-doubt. Emotionally he doesn't know what he's feeling but he's processing it the negative way he is because of the conditioning he'd had with HYDRA. In the rest of the series I'm hoping to reconnect Bucky's emotions with positive things, and have him learn that the feelings he's having for a certain Doctor aren't the feelings of animosity and unease he's clinging to.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving kudos, I appreciate you guys. The story will continue in part three :) Peace!


End file.
